


Behind the Iron Curtain

by Red_Tigress



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, Everybody gets hurt cause that's how I roll, Gen, Hurt Natasha, Hurt Sam, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Written Pre-AoU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started out as a simple repair job on Sam's wings leaves him as an unwilling accomplice to something he normally assumes is Avengers business. At least he gets to know Tony Stark pretty well along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Iron Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, HUGE thanks to Meskeet for taking the time to edit this. I know it wasn't easy with my numerous typos.
> 
> Sam Wilson is just a really, cool, nice guy, and I think the MCU needs more of him. I hope you enjoy his crazy adventure (maybe a little more than he did), and please leave some love if you like it. As always, you can find me on tumblr at redtigress.

Sam Wilson hefted the tote bag over his shoulder as he looked at the intimidating structure of glass and steel unfurling towards the sky before him. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little intimidated. The people he worked with on a regular basis were down to earth. Humble. People like him.

Steve had told him that Tony Stark could help with him anything if he needed it. Steve was currently off the grid, and Sam was having a problem with his wings. Knowing Steve, he’d need backup sooner or later, so Sam had hopped onto the train to New York and now was here, trying not to look suspicious with a tote bag full of military equipment. He could see a few security guards outside the building already eyeing him warily.

He opened the door into the lobby. Employees were moving quickly through metal detectors and off to a bank of elevators on the far side. Sam headed towards a large reception desk with about four employees and a security guard behind it. As Sam put his arms on the desk and gave a congenial smile to the closest receptionist, he realized he hadn’t really thought through what he would say.

“Can I help you?” Her tone was pleasant enough as she looked up, but it was clear she wasn’t really expecting to actually be able to help him.

“Uh, Hi, yeah. My name is Sam Wilson, and I’m a friend of Captain America’s…” he trailed off slightly. It was his first time saying it out loud and it sounded very weird, even to his own ears.

She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly at him, and then looked outside. Sam followed her gaze, seeing about ten people on the sidewalk dressed up as various Avengers. The sidewalk in front of Stark Tower looked a lot like the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

He gave a weak laugh. “No, not that Captain America, Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Listen, Sir, you know how many “friends” of Iron Man, Captain America and even Hawkeye we get in here a day? If you don’t have an appointment, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.” She was already turning towards the next item on her desk, when the phone started ringing.

She grabbed the phone angrily. “Yes?” she paused, her eyes glancing back up at Sam. He was trying to keep a smile on his face, but he realized it might just come off as weirder, so he relaxed slightly. “Are you…sure? Alright, I’ll send him up.” She hung up the phone. She sighed. “This man will escort you to the private elevator. Mr. Stark’s on the penthouse floor. The computer will take you where you need to go.”

“Oh, uh, okay. Right. Thanks!” Sam was a little surprised, but followed the security guard past the metal detectors and around the corner where there was a large elevator that didn’t even have a button on the outside.

As they waited, the security guard eyed Sam’s tote bag. “What’s with the L.L. Bean?”

“Oh, ah…my wings are in there.”

The guard snorted and the elevator dinged. “Kay, pal, whatever you say.” The doors opened and Sam stepped inside. “Elevator will take you on up. Have a nice day.” The doors closed, and Sam was alone.

He jumped when a voice in the elevator spoke. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson. Mr. Stark is awaiting your arrival.”

Sam looked around the elevator for a camera, but didn’t see any. “Uh…thanks. Are you…the computer?”

“In a manner of speaking. I am J.A.R.V.I.S. and I am Head of Mr. Stark’s household security among other tasks. I recognized your face when you entered the tower and alerted Mr. Stark to your presence.”

“Okay. Um, thanks again.”

“My pleasure.” The elevator slowed down to a stop and the doors opened with a ding! Sam stepped out into a lavish, but tasteful penthouse. The furniture was all modern, with no space wasted. There were a few Iron Man dolls spread out on a table in the hallway, Sam supposed, in case one forgot whose home they were actually in.

But the actual Iron Man was nowhere in sight. “Hello?” Sam called, taking a few steps forward.

He heard the squeaking of fast moving sneakers on hard flooring and a moment later, a man slid into view. He was wearing a black tank top and jeans, and his short black hair was sticking up in odd places. Sam could see grease stains on his skin. He smiled brightly. “Hey! You must be Birdman!” He moved forward and Sam extended his hand.

“Sam Wilson. Facon,” he smiled as Tony shook his hand eagerly.

“Well, you know who I am.” He inclined his head towards the tote bag on Sam’s shoulder. “You bring me something?”

Sam blinked, still trying to follow the whirlwind that was Tony Stark. “Uh, yeah. Steve said I could go to you for help-”

“Any friend of Steve’s is a friend of mine, barring ex-soviet spies.” Tony interrupted.

Sam blinked. “Uh…”

“Just joshin’. By the way, remind me later I’ll show you where the back superhero door is and give you access and stuff, so you don’t have to try and get past Loretta every time you come in here. She’s great at her job. Maybe a little too good. You were saying?”

Sam was already feeling like he was quickly losing pace in a marathon. “I was hoping you’d take a look at my wings. They got damaged in D.C. and Steve said you could probably repair them without me having to ah…return them.”

Tony shot forward and dug into the tote bag still on Sam’s shoulder. Sam tried to take it off, which proved difficult with Tony rifling through it. “Ooh, this is a beauty. Did I make this? Of course I did. Oh baby, who hurt you?” Tony said as he pulled out the backpack. “Military property? Cheeky, cheeky, I always knew Steve could be a rule-breaker when he wanted to be.”

Sam snorted. “Well, he has been hanging out a lot with Natasha lately.”

Tony smirked. “Yeah. Well, it’ll probably take me a few days to get the wing reattached. Hey, tell you what. Why don’t you stay on Steve’s floor, he’s got guest rooms and stuff. Make yourself at home.”

“Steve’s got a whole floor?”

“He deserves it, after living in an ice cube for the better part of a century, wouldn’t you say? Hey, weren’t there a pair of these?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “My partner. Riley. He didn’t make it out of the desert.”

Sam almost missed the distant look in Tony’s eyes. “Sorry. I know a little about that. But let’s get to work. Jarvis, find something for Sam to eat, give him the tour, yadda yadda-”

Sam’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Still reeling a bit from Tony’s rapid conversation pace, it took him a moment to recognize the name. He rapidly swiped accept, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Sam?” Natasha’s voice was a little breathless.

“Natasha? Are you alright?” Sam noticed Tony’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Not really,” and he could hear the beginnings of a smile in her tone.

“Where are you?”

“Odessa,” she said.

“Texas?” Sam asked, and now Tony was completely in Sam’s personal space with his ear on the back of Sam’s phone.

“Ukraine,” she clarified. “Do you know where Steve is? I…think I’m in over my head,” she added, sounding worried.

“Natasha, do you have coordinates? We’re coming to get you,” Tony said, pulling the phone away from Sam.

“Stark?”

“Yeah, I’m-”

Sam leaned in just in time to hear the sound of gunshots over the line. “Natasha? Natasha!”

There was no answer, and Tony and Sam looked at each other with alarm. There was the sound of movement, and then Natasha’s voice again. “I’m here, but I have to leave. Meet me at Shevchenko tomorrow at 1500 GMT.” The line went dead.

Tony looked at Sam, all traces of humor gone. “We better fix your wings.”

* * *

 

Tony had finished the wings sometime in the middle of the night and they were on a private jet to Ukraine at 6AM. Tony had said something about “I didn’t get to do as thorough of a job as I wanted, so just don’t bank at an angle that’s less than 45 degrees and you should be fine.” Sam had just grimaced, but nodded.

Tony was sitting in a chair across from him, totally conked out. His suit was lying in pieces on the floor around him, and Sam’s pack was in the chair next to him. Sam had mixed feelings about the man. While of course Iron Man was great to have on your side just in terms of pure genius and firepower, he was also flashy and bold. Sam didn’t know much about Ukraine, but he knew Odessa was in the South, and tensions there were already high with Russia without the addition of two armed Americans. More than ever he was worried about starting an international incident, and he wasn’t really sure if Tony could do subtle.

But when they got off the plane and were approached by customs, Tony said something quietly to the man as he wrote a check. The man nodded, didn’t make them sign any papers, and went back towards the hangar Tony’s private jet was pulling into.

Sam followed Tony, carrying his backpack with his wings hidden inside. Tony had a large backpack of his own made out of Kevlar. “That was surprisingly easy,” Sam said.

Tony hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I know I skirt the line between superhero and evil billionaire spy sometimes, but being able to pay off people to let you slip through customs unannounced and unnoticed has its perks.”

Sam gave a small, nervous laugh.

“Aw, don’t act like that, I’m just kidding. Besides, I’ve already been evil, billionaire type, and that ended up with a hole in my chest and no friends, so it’s not really something I’m eager to go back to.”

Sam turned to try and get a read on him, but Tony was facing away and it was impossible to tell if it was a joke or not.

Sam was quickly learning it was really hard to tell what was true about Tony Stark and what wasn’t.

“A hole in your chest? Is that when you went missing in Afghanistan?” Sam tried to be casual as they came to the front of the private airport.

Tony lifted his arm to hail a cab and gave him a look out of the corner of his eye without turning his head. “You trying to shrink me or something?”

Sam shrugged. “No, I’m just curious. Do you want a shrink?”

Tony opened the door of the cab that rolled up to the curb. He gave Sam a measured look. “Hmm, no.” He went inside, Sam following. “Look, if you’re gonna do this psycho-analysis crap the whole time-”

“Relax, I’m not here to get in your head. I’m having a hard enough time communicating with you outside of it.”

Tony leaned forward to give the cabbie a destination, before he leaned back in his seat and regarded Sam with a carefully crafted neutral expression.

“It can help to talk about that stuff, and I’ve had a lot of experience. Talking, I mean. If you ever want it. It doesn’t even have to be me. But that’s not my mission today, so that’s all I’m gonna say about it.”

Tony leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers nervously on the window. “Fine by me, Dr. Phil.”

Sam sighed. He had seen others like Tony (if not always as functional). He did a good job of hiding it, but the occasional comments made Sam think he wanted to talk about stuff that was affecting him, but couldn’t, for whatever reason. Sam could actually think of several reasons why Tony couldn’t talk about experiences that affected him negatively. Sam put in the back of his mind for later. Somehow Tony Stark had wormed his way into Sam’s head as a potential project in a shockingly short amount of time.

The cab came up to the park a short time later.

“You take American? Awesome,” Tony said throwing a wad of bills into the front seat. The cabbie looked annoyed, but said nothing as they climbed out.

Tony started walking towards the middle of the park, but Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s walk around first. We’re tourists, after all.”

Tony nodded, and they started with an ambling pace around the sidewalk that worked well with the tourists clogging up the sidewalk. They were a little conspicuous with their large backpacks, but there were enough people walking around with luggage it didn’t seem to be a huge problem. They meandered into the back of a large crowd which was getting a tour in French.

As they made their second lap of the park before they broke away from the tour, Sam was getting increasingly worried. “I don’t see any sign of her,” he said quietly to Tony. Something  caught Sam’s eye. A man dressed in a black suit, apart from the crowd, stood between some columns of a nearby monument. Sam inclined his head towards him, and Tony followed his gaze. “Standard Ukrainian fare?”

Tony frowned. “Honestly? Not sure. Ex-Soviets aren’t really my area of expertise unless they’re five-six and enjoy fighting Asgardians.”

“Wasn’t that guy in Monaco Russian?”

Tony squinted at the sun briefly. “Oh yeah. I guess I have had some experience with-”

“Not important!” Sam hissed as he noticed another badly-dressed suit walking about thirty feet behind them. Sam reached behind him, grabbing the straps that were hanging out of his backpack in various places, and fastening them over his chest.

Tony noticed what he was doing and hunched his own backpack further up on his shoulders. “Try to keep the leader alive.”

Sam nodded. “Keep clear of the civilians.”

Tony gave him a wry smile. “What is this, amateur hour?” Tony whipped around right as someone shouted in Russian. Tony whipped his arms around in something that looked to Sam like jiu-jitsu. Armor flew out of his backpack, encasing him right when the man behind the tour group opened fire.

“Run! Get away!” People were screaming and Sam was ushering them off the pathways. He heard a high-pitched whine of something electronic, and glanced back to see Iron Man blast someone through the air. Sam tore the backpack off his wing-pack, and felt the wings extend. He took to the sky and cleared a tree just in time to see three guys with uzis running towards Iron Man. He pulled his own pistol from a holster tied around his ankle, and swooped down towards them. He fired two shots, hitting one of the men in the chest, but the other two turned and fired. Sam straightened his arms behind him, and shot up into the air again.

Sam caught sight of heavy artillery, including two mini-guns and an RPG, as more men ran at Iron Man.

And still no sign of Natasha.

One of the guys with the mini-gun started opening fire on Iron’s Man back, sending him to his knees. Sam waited for him to jet upwards, but he realized a moment later Tony was drawing their fire purposely in a direction where there weren’t civilians and making himself a target.

Sam folded his wings behind him again and dove towards the man with mini-gun. The man had just enough time to look up and see Sam’s impending attack before Sam reached out and grabbed his shirt, flying with him into the air. His jetpack strained at the extra weight. Sam banked at a wide angle and then let go, the man screaming as he careened into four other guys bowling them all over.

Iron Man took advantage of the brief respite, firing another blast and knocking another few of them into the trees. Sam kept moving as some of the ones with uzis took pot-shots at him.  Sam happened to glance down the street and saw a tank slowly rolling towards their position, followed by a couple news vans.

“So much for avoiding an international incident,” he mumbled. News crews might not know who he was, but they certainly knew who Iron Man was. Sam turned in the air, remembering to keep it wide, before swooping low over the heads of the men. They stopped shooting for a moment, reluctant to hit their comrades, before a man shouted something that sounded, even to Sam’s untrained ear, suspiciously like a Russian version of “KILL HIM!”

Sam shot upwards before he flipped over in mid-air, and dove directly down towards the man. “STARK!” he shouted. He saw Iron Man turn, right when Sam snatched their leader into the air. He heard the repulsors on Iron Man’s boots start up, and then spotted Iron Man flying along in his slipstream.

“Bout time,” Tony’s metallic voice rang out. “I generally don’t like being shot at.”

“You can do one more thing! Hold this!” Sam dropped the man who gave a high-pitched scream, and Iron Man caught him around the waist. Sam grabbed the grips on his wings and turned just in time to avoid becoming a pancake on some big soviet statue of an old guy he didn’t recognize. “Thanks!” he shouted.

They banked around another tall building, before Sam flew up to the top of it, Iron Man following. He landed lightly on the roof, his wings folding into the pack behind him. Iron Man landed a second later, tossing the man onto the gravel in front of him. The Ukrainian let out a pained cry as he landed on his hands and knees.  

“Start talking, comrade,” Iron Man’s intimidating figure towered over the other man, voice tinged with mechanical menace. Sam was startled at the change but not particularly surprised.

The man got to his knees and spat at Iron Man’s feet. “I tell you nothing!” he said in a thick accent.

“Wrong answer.” Iron Man stalked forward and kicked out and armor boot, hitting the man right in the chest. He gasped as Iron Man kept the pressure on, pushing him down flat against the rooftop. The man wheezed and wrapped his hands around Tony’s ankle. Tony only pushed down harder. “Where’s the Black Widow?”

The man glanced from Iron Man to Sam. Sam just crossed his arms over his chest and waited silently. “S-s-top…please…”

Tony let up slightly. “What was that?”

“Boss…has the Widow. Told us to wait for you,” he choked out, coughing.

“Did your boss really think you guys were gonna take out Iron Man with a couple of UZIs and one RPG?” Sam asked.

“So cute.” Iron Man straightened slightly and looked at Sam, then turned back towards the man still under his boot. “Keep talking. Why does your boss want Widow and where did he take her?”

“She tries to kill him. He waits for her. Went North.” Iron Man increased the pressure on the man’s chest, and the man wheezed. “This is all I know, I swear!”

“When did she try to kill him?” Sam asked.

“Two days ago. He waits for her. Knows she is coming. He chases her for two days, but now she is caught.” The man let out a huff that Sam supposed was a laugh. It made his blood boil.

“A name! Give us a name!” Iron Man pushed down harder until the other man was straining and gasping weakly.

“Kopeykin!” he gasped.

Iron Man tilted his head for a moment like he was listening to someone. “Cross-reference with the leaked files,” he said out loud. He tilted his head silently for a few more moments, before he grabbed the man by the shirt and started dragging him across the rooftop.

“Woah, woah, hey, HEY!” Sam jogged after them, the man starting to protest loudly in some Slavic language. Iron Man ignored them both. As he reached the edge of the roof, he dropped the man’s shirt and picked him up by the pant leg instead. His thrusters started up, and he lifted off into the air slowly leaving the safety of the rooftops to hover over the street 10 stories below. The man was screaming now, and Sam could hear his pant leg ripping slowly.

“Tony!” Sam felt a really spike of fear as he watched Iron Man silently dangle a man above a certain death. When it had been Sitwell, Sam knew it was a trick. But there was no safety net here. Tony hadn’t given him any indication of his plan, and Sam wasn’t sure he would. The unforgiving, cold eyes of the helmet seemed to imply now that he would take action, instead of cracking a joke like he had been just an hour beforehand.

“Do you want me to tell you what they did to her, Wilson?” Tony said quietly as the man in his grasp twisted and writhed and shouted for help. “Do you want me to tell you about how they took her away as a child and brainwashed her, ‘trained’ her, abused her? Do you want me to tell you about how she’s never had a family because all her memories have been implanted?”

“Tony,” Sam said, holding his hands up in front of him. There was another loud rip and the man in Tony’s hand screamed as he dropped a few inches. “I think…I think Natasha’s moved forward. I don’t think she’d be very appreciative if you were fighting her battles for her.”

Iron Man’s head turned to regard him silently for a moment. Then his shoulders seemed to sag, and he tossed the man back onto the rooftop. The man crawled towards Sam. “Thank you, thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re going to jail,” Sam mumbled, using his foot to keep the advancing man at bay. He glanced at Iron Man, who remained silent. Sam scooped the man up and extended his wings, hearing Iron Man follow him. He did a slow descent over the course of two blocks, and deposited the man in front of the police station. It was so comic-y, he expected Tony to comment on it, but Iron Man said nothing. They didn’t stay long, partly because neither of them spoke Ukrainian but also because of the aforementioned international incident.

Sam flew to a low altitude, about 20 stories up with Iron Man cruising along side of him. “So what’s the plan?” He had to shout over the wind. It was bad planning to forget comms.

“I have a possible location, something Jarvis had to root around for. Are you good to fly a long distance?” Iron Man’s voice was amplified so Sam could hear it. They weren’t going too fast, but it was still windy as hell.

“As long as we keep this speed and don’t go over any oceans, it’s fine.” Sam rolled his shoulders. “Wanna tell me what that was back there?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never dropped anyone off a roof before.” Iron Man had turned his head forward again. “I thought we were starting to be friends.”

“That’s not funny.”

Sam could hear the mechanical sigh even over the rush of air. “You sound like Rogers.”

While normally Sam would feel honored by such a comparison, Tony’s voice made it clear it wasn’t a good thing in his book.

Steve had implied they were friends, but maybe Sam had misinterpreted him. Tony was becoming more complex as time went one, not less.

“I’m just worried about you, man. Are you…are you alright?”

For a moment, Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard him. 20 stories up wasn’t really the best place to have a personal conversation, after all. “No one’s ever asked me that.” His ensuing silence was all the answer Sam needed.

“I already told you, I don’t have time for this touchy-feely stuff.  We have a mission.” Tony abruptly kicked his thrusters ahead, and Sam felt his pack shudder slightly as he increased his speed.

“You deserve better, is all I’m saying.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Iron Man shot forward about a hundred yards, but Sam was already pushing his wings to the limit so he maintained his speed. He watched as Iron Man began a slow descent towards the ground.

There was a distant sound that Sam didn’t register immediately.. He banked by reflex, and saw a dark cloud of smoke appear above Iron Man, sending the man careening in another direction.

“Shit,” he mumbled, diving for the cover of the trees. It would make him a harder target for anti-aircraft missiles, but it was also more dangerous to fly through trees. Sam took one sharp bank around a large pine, and felt his right wing rattle hard. He slowed down, catching a glimpse of red and gold through the canopy, right before there was another boom. Tony,disoriented enough that he didn’t dodge the second hit, came crashing through the treetops a few hundred yards in front of Sam.

Sam expertly weaved through the trees, but with each turn he could feel his wing become looser and looser. He tried to dodge a tree, but when he angled downwards he felt asnap and his wing pitched forward abruptly. He pitched downwards sharply, and had just enough sense to pull upwards so his shoulder hit the ground instead of his face. He shouted as he tore into the ground and a wave of agony flared in his shoulder. He shuddered to a stop, groaning as he pushed himself up from the ground with one arm. He tried to move his right arm, but it was alarmingly numb. He pulled his gun out of his leg holster as he got to his feet, moving forward through the woods.

“Guess Tony was right about those tight turns,” he grumbled.

He saw a heavily broken branch, and then another a little ways away. He started following the trail of broken branches, keeping his gun ready and his eyes sharp. It didn’t take long to find the crater in the dirt at the end of the trail where Iron Man was already pulling himself out.

“You alright?” Sam panted.

The mask slid up. Tony was slightly pale, but seemed unharmed. “I’ve had worse. You?”

Sam nodded towards his bad shoulder. “Dislocated.” Tony winced in sympathy as he moved over to Sam. He took Sam’s wrist with one armored hand, and tilted his head listening to something.

“What are you listening to all the time?” Sam asked.

Tony glanced back towards him. “Jarvis is telling me exactly how to put your shoulder back in. Contrary to what you may think, I don’t have a lot of experience doing this.”

“It’s okay, I ju-” Sam choked off a scream as Tony gave one hard yank,  and he felt his shoulder slip back in. Sam glared at him, and Tony gave a fake smile.

“See? Easy-peasy.” He knocked on his helmet. Jarvis rides with me. Pretty useful.” The faceplate slid back down. “Now, let’s see if we can’t calculate some trajectories to see exactly where they’re storing that anti-aircraft gun.” He turned back towards Sam. “Nice work by the way on avoiding them.”

“I’ve had experience,” Sam said, as he moved to follow Tony as he started walking forwards.

“Airman, right?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. Used to fly through these things a lot. It’s how…I lost my partner,” Sam said quietly.

Iron Man paused. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sam assured him. “We have more important things to worry about. They knew to expect us.”

“Yup. Can’t do anything about that now.” He gestured in the direction they were headed. “I can see two anti-aircraft guns, but I’m picking up the edge of a building behind it. No idea how big it is though.”

“My wing’s damaged. I can take out the guns and let you fly overhead to get a readout,” Sam suggested.

“Sounds like a plan. When you’re within a hundred feet, I’ll fly up and cover you.”

Sam jogged forward, his recently-injured arm still tingling and throbbing with every step. As he got lower, he crouched and ducked behind a tree. He could see two…no, three men manning the guns. He waited for a minute more, making sure he didn’t see any more. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and rushed forward, zigzagging from tree to tree. Distantly behind him he heard Iron Man’s thrusters fire up. It was then the men all turned in Sam’s direction.

Sam opened fire, downing the first one by surprise, before the other two ducked behind their weapons. He dove behind a tree, crying out when he jostled his bad arm. He heard the sound of one of the guns being rotated, presumably in Iron Man’s direction. Sam broke cover and aimed towards the gun. He took two shots, the second one being a successful chest shot. The man dropped with a cry.

A repulsor beam blasted the third guy away from the gun, and Sam rushed forward to make sure he was down. He gave a thumbs up to Iron Man who was hovering a few hundred feet above him, then he reached down and tore the covering off the soviet-era guns. He looked inside seeing a gaggle of wires. “Man, I expected it to look like this after I was done.” He reached in and just yanked all the wires out. Better to be safe than sorry.

As he was working on the second one, he heard Iron Man descend and land behind him. “I’m not getting any readings, the concrete’s too thick. It must be halfway underground or something. But I can guess at the layout of the place.”

“Sounds about right,” Sam said, yanking the wires out of the second gun. “Only three guys though? It’s too quiet.”

“Yeah,” Iron Man agreed. “There’s probably more inside. Can you tell if these guys are Ukrainian or Russian?”

Sam looked at their non-descript black vests over black jackets. There was no identifying patches or anything, and Sam hadn’t caught what language they were speaking. Ukrainian and Russian were so similar, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to tell the difference anyway.  “Can’t tell.”

Iron Man’s faceplate slid up and he tapped his chin thoughtfully with one gauntlet. “Could be some elaborate setup. Natasha may not even be in there.”

Sam sighed, standing up. “I know. But we have to try.”

The faceplate slid down again. “Stay sharp.”

Sam nodded, following as Iron Man stalked into a sunken door on the side of the building. They walked down a non-descript concrete hallway. There were a few steel doors on the sides of the hallway. Iron Man kicked the first one in, but it led to an empty room. Sam looked around, but no one came at the noise. They moved on to the second one, which yielded the same results.

“How big did you say this place was?” Sam asked. They rounded a corner and saw a staircase leading straight down into the dark, looking more ominous than Sam would have admitted out loud.

Iron Man descended, the glow from his chest and eyes only slightly lighting the area. Sam followed closely, looking for any sort of lights. There were some florescent fixtures, but they hung broken and derelict from the ceiling. The whole place had a wet, rocky, moldy smell.

“There’s a few rooms up ahead,” Iron Man said. “Jarvis can just make out the structure…wait-”

Sam froze and a moment later he heard a clicking noise from ahead of them. His mind hadn’t even registered what it was before he felt Iron Man’s massive bulk hit and push him down, as concrete exploded around them and fire licked at his skin. He may have screamed, but he couldn’t be sure; there was a ringing in his ears and the sudden change from dark to fire as bright as the sun had effectively rendered him blind. He distantly felt Iron Man’s body encompass him, but every time the armor took a heavy hit it shook Sam hard enough to rattle his teeth.

After what seemed like forever, the rumbling and the fire stopped. Sam opened his eyes, coughing as dust swirled around him. Spotty light he recognized as sunlight came from above him, coming through a layer of destroyed concrete that lay on top of them. His hearing was still coming back to him, and he groaned as his shoulder throbbed wildly.

Breathing was difficult owing to not only the concrete on top of him, but Iron Man’s heavy armor as well. “Tony,” he gasped. “Tony, I need you…to get off…” His voice sounded shaky and quiet and he couldn’t tell if it was because his hearing was still messed up or if he was more injured than he realized. Maybe both.

But Tony didn’t move. He heard voices shouting from somewhere far away. Sam cried out as he tried to roll out from under Tony, but it seemed they were both stuck. He managed to twist slightly, allowing Iron Man to tip to the side.. Sam saw the mask’s eye lights were off. Grunting, he maneuvered his hand out from under him and tapped on the helmet. “Tony!”

The voices were getting closer now, and he heard the sound of rock moving. Sam felt his way down from the helmet, and along the neck. Things seemed to be in place, but when he got to Tony’s side and the little he could reach of his back, he felt jagged edges. There must have been some heavy shrapnel in whatever exploded around them. He moved his hand further down to where he figured Tony’s hip was and cursed when he felt something wet, warm and sticky.

He didn’t think it was oil.

Something above them shifted and more light spilled onto Sam’s face, as he moved his hand back up to Tony’s helmet. “Tony, man, come on!” he growled.

But Tony remained deathly still.

A final boulder was moved, and then there were three men hauling Iron Man off of him. Sam sucked in a deep breath, but before he could do anything, a gun was shoved at his face. He moved both hands slowly over his chest, palms facing outward.

Two men were staring down at him. One, an older man with short cropped gray hair and an intimidating stature spoke. “So they call you The Falcon, yes?” He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. “I was hoping for Captain America, but I suppose you’ll do.” He turned to the other man and said something in Russian. The man gave him his gun and then reached down, roughly hauling Sam up. Another man came in behind him and patted Sam down. He removed both of Sam’s guns, plus his knife.

“You must be Kopeykin. What’d you do with Iron Man?” Sam growled.

“Relax. We are taking him for ride. You will come too.” The man who had taken his weapons pulled his arms behind his back, and Sam bit back a cry when his injured shoulder was pulled painfully behind him. After the man tied his wrists behind him, he used Sam’s knife to cut off the pack’s straps. Sam stumbled as he was pushed out of the crater that used to be a bunker. At the top of the hill, there were about a dozen men milling around, all dressed in non-descript, non-identifying military gear, three jeeps, and a covered cargo truck. Sam saw four men lift the still unresponsive Iron Man into the back, before his own captors pushed him in the same direction.

Sam leaned on the back of the truck, and someone pulled him in roughly. He gasped again when the motion pulled on his shoulder and multiple cuts from the explosion. They’d laid Iron Man out in front of him, and Sam got a good look. Much of the armor was blackened with soot, and there were multiple dents - most of them pressing more than a few inches inward - where something had blasted the armor, but the worst were the jagged tears on the arms and torso of the suit. Most of the places he could see the mesh skeleton of the armor under them, but in a few places where that had been damaged, blood leaked through. There were few things more unnerving than seeing a metal construct bleed human blood.

“Why haven’t you helped him?” Sam demanded, kneeling down next to him in the truck.

One of the men shrugged. “Safeguards. You get off, you help.”

“Um, Jarvis? If you can hear me, it’s Sam Wilson. I need you to take the suit off of Tony so I can help him.”

For a minute, nothing happened, and Sam was worried that whatever damage the suit had taken had damaged Jarvis as well. But then with some strained-sounding clicks and whirrs, the suit began unfolding. Sam winced, seeing the blood coating parts of Tony’s shirt and face.

Sam automatically reached for him, before he felt the pull of the restraints around his wrists. “Let me help him,” he glared at the men who wasted no time in scooping up the armor.

One of the men sneered at him, the one who had spoken English before. “With what? No supplies.” He shrugged. The truck lurched forward, and Sam fought to keep his balance and not fall on Tony.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch him bleed out?” Sam said incredulously. “Man, just let me help him. Please.”

The man said something to one of his comrades in Russian. The other man just shrugged, before he pointed his gun back at Sam. Sam tensed, but the English-speaking guy came around behind him, and untied the ropes around his wrists. “Do not try something.”

Sam ignored him, reaching down hurriedly and pulling Tony’s AC/DC tour shirt out of the way. He grimaced when he saw a piece of shrapnel about four inches long embedded halfway into Tony’s side, which was bleeding sluggishly. Sam felt around the wound with his fingers before determining while the wound looked gruesome, it was shallow and the metal was only about half an inch in him. Sam tore a part of his cargo pant leg and wrapped it around his hand. He gently and slowly pulled the metal out, Tony groaning slightly as he did so. “Hope you’ve had your tetanus shot,” he mumbled.

He was about to throw the piece of metal away, but he looked up at his captors. Both were turning their faces away, now that Tony was bleeding more freely. Sam hurriedly pocketed the piece of metal before he unwrapped the cloth around his hand and applied it to Tony’s side.

Tony twitched and moaned again, before his eyes blinked open.

“Hey,” Sam gave a relieved smile.

Tony groaned. “Hey yourself.”

One of the guys stood up and poked Sam in his bad shoulder with the muzzle of his rifle. Sam hissed, but said nothing. He made eye contact with Tony again, who rapidly took in the situation.

“Where’s my suit?” Tony’s voice was strained, and Sam wondered how bad his head wound was. He made a grisly sight, blood covering half his face along with a determined, angry look.

“Quiet,” one of the other men said, one who hadn’t spoken yet.

“Where’s. My. Suit.” Tony’s voice was a growl now, and he rolled over onto one side as Sam struggled to hold the cloth in place. Tony’s eyes roved around the back of the truck, catching sight of the pieces of his suit under one of the benches that two men were sitting on. Tony shot out one arm towards it.

The next thing Sam knew, everyone in the truck was on their feet and there was a blinding pain in the back of Sam’s head. He found himself pitched forward over Tony, seeing stars, with the cold muzzle of a rifle pressed against his temple. Tony was looking at him with alarm, and damn it, Sam hated being someone else’s victim. Tony slowly lowered his arm.

Two of the men pulled Sam backwards away from Tony. Sam was too dazed to resist as they wrenched his arms behind his back again, retying his wrists. Then two more men rolled Tony onto his chest. Tony winced painfully but remained silent as they tied his wrists behind his back. Sam watched with worry as a trail of blood smeared across the floor from Tony’s side.

“No worries, Tweety Bird,” Tony gasped out, noticing Sam’s gaze.  Sam frowned, seeing how Tony’s face paled, but remained silent. “No talking, I get it. Can’t even tell us where you’re taking us?”

Sam flinched as one of the men next to him raised his gun in the air.

“Fine, fine! I get it, no talking.” Sam let out a frustrated breath. He couldn’t tell if Tony’s talking was a nervous habit or a result of the head wound. Maybe both.

They sat in silence for another hour. By the time the car slowed down, Sam’s bad arm was numb again and it felt tight. Probably swelling. He also had a major headache from being hit in the head. Tony was still pale, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was still bleeding or not. But at least he was awake.

The truck came to a complete stop, and the men hauled them up, pushing them out of the back. They both landed painfully, but remained standing. Sam looked around, noting some kind of town or small city in the distance. They seemed to be on the outskirts of it, in more run-down military type buildings. As the other jeeps pulled up, the rest of the men got out, escorting them inside. Sam noticed one guy carrying his pack under his arm. Three more men had armfuls of Iron Man pieces.

The men with the tech turned down a side hall, but the majority of the crowd kept going. Sam felt a real sense of apprehension at the physical separation. He watched Tony jerk slightly towards the hall with the armor, and knew he felt it too. Maybe more keenly than Sam did.

They were brought into a room and pushed into some steel chairs. Kopeykin stood in front of them.

Tony leaned towards Sam. “Don’t worry, this sort of thing happens to me all the time.”

Sam gave him an alarmed look. “What?”

Tony ignored him. “Where’s Black Widow?” he asked the room at large.

Kopeykin regarded them silently for a minute. “Dead.”

For a moment, the word didn’t register for Sam. Then his stomach dropped and he broke out into a cold sweat. Dead? Natasha? There was no way.

Tony seemed to share his thoughts. “Not possible.”

Kopeykin sneered. “You heard her. She was in over her head. It is why she called you, is it not?”

Sam clenched his teeth together. So they had been listening in on the phone call. Had Natasha known? He didn’t think so. She wouldn’t willingly have risked calling them out here. “What do you want with us?” Sam asked instead.

Kopeykin looked thoughtful for a moment. “What does any man want? Power.”

“Listen, pal, don’t know if you’ve heard about me, but when people demand that I build them stuff, they usually end up dead,” Tony sneered.

“Do not overestimate your importance, Mr. Stark. I do not need anything from you,” he said calmly.

“Then why keep us alive?” Sam asked before Tony could say anything snarky.

“When the Soviet Union fell, it was hard time for us,” he began.

“Why, because you didn’t have any little girls to kidnap and torture into assassins?” Tony spat. Kopeykin stepped forward and delivered a hard slap to Tony’s face that had him nearly falling off the seat and Sam wincing in sympathy.

He picked Tony up by his shirt and righted him in the chair. Tony’s head rolled around on his neck drunkenly. He leaned down close to Tony’s face and hissed, “Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not, Mr. Stark?” He made a show of brushing dirt off Tony’s shoulders. “Me and my men were out of a job. Out of an occupation. We got jobs here and there,” he waved his hands as he stood up. “But nothing like before. We went from lords, to servants.”

“You’re a war criminal, you sick, Soviet nostalgic freak!” Tony spat.

“SO ARE YOU, MR. STARK!” Kopeykin roared. Sam didn’t miss the way Tony curled slightly in on himself at the words. “Do not pretend you are a more altruistic person than me, you who fly around in your suit regardless of consequences. You have all the arrogance of any warlord I have ever seen.”

Sam saw Tony’s jaw clench, but the other man said nothing.

“So far, the rest of the Soviets have been reluctant to join in Russia’s crusade against Ukraine. The world has not intervened. However,” and now he peered at Sam. “When Soviets see bodies of Iron Man and his other American friend, they will become defensive of the old ways much more.”

He leaned close to Sam now. “There’s nothing Soviets hate more than American intervention.”

“You’re crazy,” Sam breathed. “No one will go along with that!”

“No? Why do you think Crimea is still in Russian hands? Ex-Soviets want security. Russia can provide that security. And I will be in charge of that security.”

He turned and said something to one of the guards, then turned back to them. “Mr. Stark, if you so much as twitch your arms to try and summon your armor, these men have orders to break both your wrists.” He paused thoughtfully. “And the Falcon’s jaw for good measure.” He left.

Tony and Sam exchanged glances. Sam assumed the Iron Man armor was far enough away that the men would certainly follow through on their threats before Tony had a hope of using it.

“At least I don’t have to build anything,” Tony mumbled. Sam peered at him sharply, and then looked at their five guards still in the room with them. One of them shifted, and glanced at Stark irritably, but said nothing. He looked back at Tony, whose eyes were shifting rapidly around the room. Sam could still feel the piece of shrapnel in his pants pocket, but there was no way he could get to it. Not with five of them watching.

“What’s your plan, anyway? Just gonna let us sit here?” Tony was looking at one of the guards, who sneered and took a few steps closer. Sam blinked, going over Tony’s exact words in his head, and then taking a chance.

“They like staring too much. Don’t wanna use their tools,” Sam said.

He saw Tony grin at the guard. “Then maybe an annoying, distracting, asshole is in order.”

“What you say?” The man took a step towards Tony. It seemed their English wasn’t great but at least he understood the asshole part of it. Sam looked at the others. They were all watching Tony and the one guy now. Sam slowly reached towards his pocket and pulled out the shrapnel. No one noticed. He turned it around in his fingers, and started sawing slowly at his bonds.

“You heard me, and I’d say your mother screwed a goat, but goats are much better looking than you. Is that how Russian insults go? They’ve always struck me as incredibly pedantic so I’m a little out of pract-” he was cut off with a solid punch to the jaw, and Sam saw blood fly from his mouth.

Sam internally cringed at the beating he knew was coming, knowing he would be partly responsible. But he couldn’t afford to let them see him, especially if he wanted to get both him and Tony out of this alive.

“That all you got, Yakov Smirnoff? I’ve known 11-year olds that hit harder than you. They smell better too, where have you been bath-”

Tony couldn’t hold back a cry as another hit to his face came, and Sam sawed harder at his bonds.

Tony gave a quiet laugh and then spat blood onto the guy’s shoes. “You don’t-” but he was cut off as he was hit again. And again.

Another guy sneered. “He like hit you,” he said in broken English. Tony’s head sunk down as he took loud breaths. The guy who had been hitting Tony took a step closer.

Maybe if Tony hadn’t been thrown around a few times already that day and suffering from a head injury, he would have had more mental guards. As it was, he flinched, violently.

The other guys seemed to take that as some sort of cue, and Sam tried to speed up his rapid sawing. It was still a lot of rapid fumbling, and Sam bit the inside of his lip to keep from cursing every time he cut accidentally into one of his wrists.

The man who had been hitting Tony had a look of perverted glee on his face as he moved behind Tony and grabbed his wrist. With a savage twist, he wrenched it to an unnatural angle, and Sam had to fight a gag reflex as he heard the loud snap of bone that Tony’s choked off scream couldn’t cover.

It was then that Sam felt his bonds give.

And not a moment too soon. Sam kept his hands where they were as another man approach him. The man shrugged. “You heard boss. We break nose too.” He swung back, preparing to strike, and Sam took his opportunity.

He leapt up, kicking the off-balance man the rest of the way down while pulling his gun out of his hands. He shot the two extra men who weren’t fast enough to get their guns, and then shot the man on the floor next to him as he reached for another gun in his waistband. Sam held the gun up against his shoulder, looking down the sights at the man who had just broken Tony’s wrist. “Get away from him,” he snarled.

The man put his hands in the air and Sam motioned with the muzzle of the gun towards the chair he’d just vacated. The man moved slowly towards the chair and sat down in it. Sam quickly moved behind him. “Don’t move.” He put the gun on the floor as he grabbed the man’s wrist with his own numb and bloody fingers. He fumbled slightly, moving the ropes to try and get enough slack to tie a new knot around his wrists. After a minute, he managed to get a knot he was happy with. He moved to pat down the other man, find a knife and an extra Beretta. He picked the rifle back up, and quickly moved over to Tony whose head was hanging forward.

“Jeez, Tony,” Sam mumbled, hurriedly cutting the other man’s bonds. Tony grunted in pain, then pulled his broken wrist slowly to his chest. Sam moved around to his front, kneeling down. Tony had a few new cuts on his face and his lip was cut. Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth down his chin. His eyes, while pain-filled, were alert. “You didn’t have to get yourself beaten to hell,” he hissed, actually angry. He’d seen soldiers on the brink before. The ones that didn’t think they mattered any more, and threw out all sense of self-preservation. He’d only known the guy a day, but Tony Stark had a way of growing on you when you got to know the real guy. And he didn’t want Tony to be that soldier.

Tony grinned. “Was distracting…wasn’t I?” He shot out his good arm making Sam hop aside with surprise. He then rotated his wrist around and bent his elbow. Sam glanced around, wondering if Tony had lost his mind, before he looked back at Tony. The man had a confused look on his face, made a little sad by one of his eyes swelling up. “Huh.”

“What’s supposed to happen?” Sam asked.

“Suit. Probably locked up.” Tony stood, still holding his broken wrist against his chest.

Sam handed him the extra hand gun. “You need me to splint that?” he asked, nodding to Tony’s wrist.

“No time.” Tony started moving towards the door. Sam grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged Tony behind him.

“I got point,” he said. Tony pouted at him, which again, just looked strange on his swollen, bruised face. Sam paused at the door. “What if your suit’s broken?”

Tony frowned. “Cross that bridge when we come to it.” He paused, looking at Sam’s bloody wrists, before he bent down to one of the bodies near them and tore off a bandana from around his neck. He held it out for Sam, who took it, tore it in two, and then wrapped each piece around a wrist. He wasn’t in danger of bleeding out, but the wounds were bleeding and even though Tony had just taken a piece of cloth off a dead guy, Sam was thankful. When he was done wrapping them, he hefted the gun against his shoulder.

“Ready?”

“Yep. Gun up.” Tony said, extending his working arm in a goofy manner.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay.” He pushed the door open, stepping into a long, dark hallway lit only illuminated by a few bare, dangling light bulbs. Some rusty pipes ran against the wall, and Sam had an ugly version of déjà vu from a few hours earlier. Except this time, there wouldn’t be any protection if the walls crumbled around them.

And they still had no idea where Natasha was.

It turns out, they didn’t have to wait long.

Sam had just rounded a corner, making sure the way was clear, when he heard Tony give a choked cry and the sound of something impacting a wall. Sam whirled, eyes in the sights of his rifle. It took him a sluggish second to recognize the red-haired person that had Tony in a chokehold and a knife against his side. Her look could only be described as murderous.

“WOAH! Natasha! It’s us! Hey!” Sam hurriedly held his hands up in the air.

Natasha blinked, then let go of Tony, who sagged forward, sucking in huge breaths. “S-sorry,” she gasped to him. She reached down to help him stand.

“Careful, they broke his wrist,” Sam said. She paused, taking a step backwards from the recovering billionaire. Sam took a moment to study her. Her pupils were blown wide, and it seemed to be taking her a few seconds longer than normal to process information. There was dried blood on her forehead, and she seemed to be favoring one ankle. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer the question, instead looking from Sam’s wrists to Tony’s face and arms. Her eyes narrowed. “What he do to you?”

“Drugged her,” Tony mumbled, standing up straight and answering Sam’s original question with a pained wheeze.

She waved her hand. “It’s wearing off.”

“Is that why you tried to choke me?” growled Tony.

“I said I was sorry!”

“Okay! Hey! Not the time!” Sam hissed. He looked between Natasha and Tony, unsure if the guy with the broken wrist and concussion or the drugged superspy was more accurately able to wield a gun at this point. He sighed. “Tony, give your gun to Natasha.”

“Whaaa-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Tony, you can barely stand.” To Natasha, who’d grinned maliciously at Tony he said, “Don’t think I won’t take it away!” To himself, he mumbled, “How is this my life?”

Tony handed the gun to Natasha, but then he floundered and leaned heavily against the wall. Now that backup was here (albeit drugged and injured), Tony wasn’t trying as hard to hide his injuries.

Natasha frowned, before she took his good wrist and put it on her shoulder. “Hold on to me,” she said softly. Sam’s face softened at the intimate moment between teammates. Deep down in his heart, he’d hoped he’d have relationships like that again. After Riley.

A tiny piece of his heart hoped maybe he could have that with the Avengers.

Natasha nodded towards him, and he turned, gun held ready.

As they walked, Sam whispered to her. “See any sort of storage places while you were sneaking around?”

“I’ve only been free for less than an hour. But...try the second hallway on the left. Lot of activity.” He glanced back at her, and she was looking around distractedly. He grimaced. Maybe those drugs weren’t wearing off as fast as she thought.

“You okay if we get into it?” He asked her.

She met his eyes. “Always.”

Sam stopped at the corner, looking around it slowly. It was empty, but at the far end, a door was opening. When a man stepped into the hallway, Sam was ready. He took the shot, downing the man, but immediately, two more guns came into view, firing at Sam’s position. He dove back behind the wall. The three of them leaned hard into the wall.

Natasha waited for the firing to stop before she leaned around the corner, firing her handgun. Sam heard one guy cry out and when Natasha pulled back he was immediately there to take her place. He took a few shots at the guy when he appeared in the hallway, but missed. Sam’s gun clicked empty.

So did the other guy’s. Sam turned to get Natasha’s gun, but she was already up and sprinting towards the guy at the end of the hall. She leapt off the opposite wall before aiming a punch towards the man with all her weight and the force of gravity behind it. Sam winced when he heard the impact from the end of the hall.

“I’ve only seen people do that in movies,” Sam said, awe in his voice.

“You haven’t seen Captain America do that?” Tony asked.

“I was kind of busy not getting shot to pieces by a helicarrier at the time,” Sam grunted, getting to his feet.

“Fair enough,” Tony mumbled, following him. Natasha was already going through the dead men’s pockets, looking for ammo. Sam and Tony passed her, going into the room, and saw a huge metal locker against the wall. Tony shot his good hand out again, and there was a huge thunk from inside the locker.

Sam leaned down to put his rifle on the ground and examine the lock. “Hmm. Tony, do you have anything that could pick this, I think-”

He was cut off as Natasha picked up his rifle and slammed the stock of it into the lock. Sam bounced backwards out of the way, shooting a glare at her. She shrugged, handing him the rifle. “Aren’t you always saying how Soviet stuff is cheap?”

Tony pulled off the lock and opened the locker. “Oh, baby, did you miss me?” he asked as pieces of his armor started assembling around him. He held out his broken wrist. “Gently, gently, I’ve had a bit of a rough time today,” he said tiredly to the armor.  It slid slowly onto his wrist. Tony turned slightly more pale, but didn’t cry out. Sam was relieved, knowing the armor would serve as at least part of a splint.

Once the faceplate attached to the rest of his helmet, Tony’s mask slid up and he grimaced. “Power’s down to 20%. Explosion really did a number on it,” he said. Sam reached into the locker, picking out his broken wings.

“Then I guess we’re really not flying anywhere,” he mumbled.

Tony stomped in front of them in his armor, which still had ugly gashes covered in blood. “No point being subtle,” Tony said. He seemed slightly more energized now that he had his armor around him, but he still was pale and holding his injured wrist against his middle. “J, find me an exit. Before I blow one in the side of the building.”

Sam caught the soft voice of Tony’s A.I. from within the open helmet. “Sir, I’d highly advise against that as it could damage the structural integrity and thus your companions.”

“Back the way we came, and then to the left, I think,” Natasha said. She took point, limping more heavily than she had before her run and bounce off the wall, but also seemed slightly more alert. They followed her quick limp with sluggish jogs of their own.

Natasha led them through a set of double doors. As soon as they burst into sunlight, gunfire exploded around them. Sam dove behind a nearby Jeep along with Natasha, as Iron Man spun and fired a blast that knocked three people screaming from the rooftop in a shower of rubble. Sam’s shoulder flared painfully, but he got to his knees and started firing at another nearby car that two men were behind. The bullets pinged harmlessly off Iron Man’s armor, but then something big hit the ground about four feet away from him.

Sam had the same realization Tony did, but Tony was faster. He took a quick step towards Sam and Natasha, grabbing them and flinging them away. They both grunted as they hit the ground fifteen feet away, hearing and feeling the shockwave of the explosion. Sam scrambled to his feet, looking quickly for Iron Man.

He could see him lying facedown on the ground, trying to move one leg, very, very slowly. A crack in the bunker wall from where he must have hit it radiated outwards and for the second time that day Sam was both eternally grateful and eternally furious at Tony’s quick-thinking. Two men were advancing on the armor, guns drawn, and after the amount of damage he’d already taken today, Sam wasn’t sure the armor would survive high-powered ammunition at point blank range.

Natasha seemed to realize this too, because with a furious roar she fired her sidearm at the men whose bodies fell to the ground alongside Tony’s.

“I made you!” Kopeykin’s screaming sounded at them from the roof of the bunker and they both turned. “You’d be nothing without me!” He was depressing the handle of another grenade, and it was apparent he intended to throw it at Iron Man’s prone form.

Natasha stood up slowly, dropping her gun to the ground.

“Natasha!” Sam hissed, but she paid no attention to her. It was then he saw a glint of something steel in her wrist.

Apparently Kopeykin didn’t see it, because he kept talking. “Come quietly, girl. A new regime awaits us, you will be safe, and you will be powerful again. Do you hear me girl? You have no choice! You will-”

He didn’t even see her throw the knife. One second Kopeykin was talking, and the next a knife handle had sprouted from his throat. He tumbled backwards, grenade in hand, and there was another huge boom as it exploded from the top of the roof.

“Idiot,” Natasha mumbled. She picked up her gun, moving towards Iron Man with Sam following. “Get a Jeep,” she ordered. Sam hurried over to a vehicle that hadn’t been damaged in the explosion. Luckily, the keys were still inside. It wasn’t in great condition, but it had a roof, seats, gas and a working engine. He drove it over to where Iron Man was still laying on the ground. Natasha was leaning over him.

“Help me get him into the back,” she said when he pulled up. Together, they lifted him up by his arms and dragged him to lie across the back seat. He was a little oversized in the suit, so they propped him against one of the doors before Natasha got into the passenger seat.

Sam sighed, turning the vehicle around and driving down the dirt road that led away from this place. He glanced at Tony in the rearview mirror. “Is he always this self-sacrificial?” he asked Natasha.

She smiled. “You wouldn’t guess it but…yeah. He is.” She glanced back at him endearingly. “Thank you…for coming to get me. Most people wouldn’t have.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t seem to need much help in the end.” He gave her a mischievous grin.

“Still. I appreciate it. It’s good having you at my back, Sam. Everytime.”

He felt a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Well, it’s only been like, the three times now.”

She gave him a playful punch.

* * *

 

It took them about five hours to drive back to Odessa, and only that long because some of the more rural roads were so riddled with potholes it was next to impossible to go at anything above a slow crawl. At the airport, Tony’s checkbook and Natasha’s smooth talking, had security overlook their disheveled appearance. They rushed onto Tony’s jet, eager to get home, and also to wash off the blood they’d accrued and take some painkillers. And eat.

No one had the energy to cook anything in the plane’s kitchen, but there was plenty of bar food they all chowed down on. Tony still wore a gauntlet on his broken wrist, but had regained a little color (even though part of his face was still swollen). Sam’s hands had healed over with ugly scabs, but his arm was still sore. The jet’s first aid kit had a sling that Tony insisted he use. The drugs had gone out of Natasha’s system, and her ankle was currently wrapped. She sat in a chair next to Sam, both of them facing Tony.

And Natasha told them why she had been out there.

Why after D.C., she wanted to make the effort to wipe her ledger clean once and for all. How she had been hunting old Red Room commanders. Some of the things they had done to her.

They listened quietly and attentively, not daring to interrupt. A few times, Sam glanced over at Tony who had a shadowed look on his face. As Sam listened, he became glad that they had helped, even though it was only a little bit. He didn’t relish killing, but he didn’t feel much remorse for the men he had killed today.

“I appreciate you sharing something so personal with us.” From the look on Tony’s face, it was apparent it was the first time he’d heard it too. “It must have been hard.”

Natasha sighed deeply, but with contentment. It was a feeling Sam knew very well from his time working with vets. The feeling of being just a little bit liberated by getting something off your chest. Of being better off than you were that morning.

She leaned against Sam, and shut her eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly, before she opened her eyes and looked at Tony. “Both of you.”

Tony gave a rare smile that Sam could tell was an actual, genuine smile. He didn’t realize until he saw it all of Tony’s other smiles had been fake.

Sam reflected on his new, strange friends, and realized he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Any time,” he said, smiling.


End file.
